


Casting Couch

by Cesare



Category: Stargate Atlantis RPF
Genre: Acting, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-08
Updated: 2010-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-14 11:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cesare/pseuds/Cesare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can believe you never did it, but you can't tell me no one ever asked."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Casting Couch

Joe's quiet on the drive back to the apartment, seething; Jason lets him hold it for now. It'll burst out eventually.

They're almost there when Joe shakes a couple of painkillers into his hand and dry swallows them, choking out, "God _damn,_ what a day."

"Aren't they all." Jason taps his fingers on the steering wheel, easing onto their street.

Rolling his head on his neck til it cracks, Joe says, "I spent hours doing those two little scenes and I bet every bit of it hits the cutting room floor. I'd give up a kidney to get Jill back."

"She was great," Jason agrees.

"The last couple of times they've had me read with a _love interest_... I thought, okay, it's a process. But then they cast the part, and-- it's like they're fucking with me on purpose."

"Not you they're fucking," Jason shakes his head. "She's straight from the casting couch."

"That's about the only thing that'd explain it."

Jason pulls into the garage, gets out, locks up with the key fob. Joe moves a little slower, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing; finally Jason scruffs him and squeezes, because Joe won't ask, but Jason knows it helps.

"Why else would they even write those parts in?" Jason says. "Female, eighteen to twenty-five, wear a corset, flirt with the lead. Doesn't advance the plot, and the script's three pages over, so odds are, it's going to get cut. But that's their system. Waste a few hours of our time and MGM's money, get laid by a pretty wannabe."

"Ah, come on," says Joe. "That casting couch stuff doesn't happen anymore."

"You gotta be kidding me."

"What, you blow somebody to get this part?"

Jason drops his grip on Joe and frowns at that gibing tone, the total certainty in Joe's voice. "Not this one," he says.

With a snort, Joe ducks his head into the fridge, going after a beer. Budweiser. Joe always cops to it with a whaddaya-gonna-do shrug at a mention of authority problems and daddy issues, but still, he always drinks his family's beer.

"What," Jason asks, "you never did?"

Joe jerks his head up, the bottle parting from his mouth with a pop. "You're serious."

"Yeah. Come on. I can believe you never did it, but you can't tell me no one ever asked."

"Uh, _no,"_ Joe says.

"What happened, you roll into every casting call in your Lacoste shirt and Ray-Bans?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"If you came in looking like money," Jason slows it down, "then maybe they wouldn't make a pass. If you didn't look hungry enough."

"You're serious," Joe repeats.

"Come on, Joe. David's almost proud of it, he told a story at the first season wrap party. Went down for five minutes, turned a walk-on into a week of work."

"I left early," says Joe, looking down at the beading droplets on his beer bottle.

Jason lets that go by. Shooting in Vancouver, family in L.A.... sharing this apartment with Joe, Jason's seen how it's been hard on all sides. Joe stopped flying down there on weekends a while back.

"That's what he said," Jason shrugs. "It's David, so who knows, but that's how he told it."

"I guess I can believe maybe David," says Joe, "everything's a goof to him. But you, no way."

Jason holds up two fingers.

Joe's eyes narrow, and he tenses, wringing the beer bottle's neck with both hands, but then he just finishes it off and gets two more, hands one to Jason, makes his way to the sofa.

"I don't believe it never came up for you," Jason says. "Practically your first job, you played gay, that had to give the next few casting agents ideas."

"Will you sit down," Joe's voice hits its most nasal pitch, the one that always makes Jason think, _Leading man material... right._

Jason flops next to him, the sofa rocking on its feet a little. "Seriously," he says. "And you're getting red. They did say stuff and you just didn't pick it up, huh."

One of the writers tossed a line into one of their scripts, a girl making a pass and Sheppard saying he never saw it coming; it didn't really fit the character, Jason thinks, since plenty of episodes show Sheppard charming people to get his way. He suspects the line was mostly a poke at Joe, who was completely hapless at his first few conventions and appearances, never noticing when friendly flirting became serious intent until hotel keys were pressed into his hand.

"No," Joe denies, but his face darkens more; he doesn't really blush exactly, he looks more like he has a blotchy tan.

Jason looks at Joe's mouth. Fans fixate on it; it just makes sense. Joe has a hot mouth, full and inviting, just pink enough for subtle contrast with his skin and his stubble. "Whether you got it or not, I _guarantee_ people have hit you up for blowjobs." Anyone with a working dick would imagine those lips wrapped around it, Jason's pretty sure. He might be a little biased.

Joe does a double take at that, the second look lingering.

Maybe that look's a warning, but Jason decides to push anyway. "What about getting 'em? I had a casting guy, wanted to go down on me before he'd even hear me read."

Joe looks away. "You let him?"

"Hell yeah. Didn't get the job," says Jason. "Didn't care too much though."

Joe's biting the inside of his mouth, his jaw working. "I never... either way. Any way. I guess you think I haven't paid my dues," he says. It sounds like he's trying for light, but he misses by a mile.

"No, man," Jason says honestly. "I'm glad you never had to. I don't feel bad about it, but some people get fucked up over it."

"Yeah."

What the hell. Jason says, "If you do it, it should be because you want to."

Joe looks over toward him, at his hands, doesn't meet his eyes. Oh yeah.

"You never with a guy at all, huh," Jason pushes a little more.

"No." Joe sounds like rusty gears grinding. "You ever, when you wanted to?"

"Yeah," says Jason, and slides to his knees.

He figures he can pass it off as a joke if he has to, but Joe's eyes are huge and black and serious. From this position, Joe's hard-on couldn't be more obvious. He's got to be hurting, bound up in his jeans. Jason looks, then meets Joe's gaze again, seeing him see that Jason sees, a feedback loop that has Jason fully hard himself in no time, and Joe shifting uncomfortably trying to make room.

Joe fumbles his beer to the side table and then he freezes, can't seem to make another move beyond that. His hands hover on his thighs.

"Is this going to fuck things up for you?" Jason asks.

"Whatever's screwed up is already... it's on me," Joe says. He looks at Jason again, eyes drowned-dark. "Maybe I shouldn't have lived here with you. But I did, it's done."

"Okay," Jason says. Joe looks shaky, but sure. And Jason can't-- he's been wanting a long time, longer than he realized, living alongside Joe and clocking every little thing about him, the curl of his bare toes, dark hair on the backs of his hands, shirts always coming untucked on the right side.

Joe's still stuck, so Jason reaches for the top button of his jeans; Joe sucks in a breath just at that, his stomach tensing, abs pulling in. Jason unhooks that button, the next one, another, and finally Joe's hands cover his, Joe undoes the rest.

He already knew Joe's hung, it's a joke in the men's room that the regulars were all cast for cock size; even the shorter guys, Kavan and Nykl, are packing. Joe's a grower too, though, and Jason takes a second to appreciate holding a hard, long shaft that his whole hand doesn't cover.

But then Joe shudders and Jason doesn't want to make him wait any more, so he tilts Joe's dick into his mouth and draws up, tongues back down, tightens his lips to pull up again; Joe's already white-knuckled. Jason adjusts his grip, brings his other hand into it, holds so Joe can't get off yet.

"Dammit," Joe gasps, but now there is a blush on his face, and his mouth's lurid red. Jason keeps going, slow, trying different things. He rubs his tongue behind the head and Joe's dick flexes like it's trying to escape.

Jason goes until Joe finally gets out a choked "Please." He shifts his hand to envelop the shaft and jerks Joe off into the cup of his mouth sucking tight around the head, doing that thing with his tongue that got such a good reaction before, and Joe groans and pushes his hips up, fucking into his mouth and shooting hard.

Jason's not really expecting anything back. He palms himself through his pants, adjusting, but that's it. He doesn't want to crash the afterglow of Joe's first time, and anyway, he likes to wait.

Joe's shaking it off, though, like post-coital relaxation is an annoyance. "Lemme, uh--"

"You don't have to." Jason really is zen about it. He can feel that it's going to be a great orgasm no matter how he has it, that deep clench in his balls already feels damn good and promises to keep building.

"If I'm doing this, I'm doing it," Joe says, but Jason holds him right where he is, because that's not convincing at all.

"Jase, I want to," Joe says finally, adenoidal, almost a whine, and _that's_ convincing.

Jason gets up onto the sofa, reclining against the arm, one leg slung over the back, and opens his pants. No point making Joe get down on his knees, and no point making him deal with the fly, either. It's the first time he's trying this, he'll have enough to deal with just getting his head around it.

And then Joe's lips part around him, his end-of-day stubble lightly rough against Jason's thigh. Oh, yeah, this is going to be awesome.

Joe's lack of experience is obvious, he's just sucking hard and working his mouth around, barely any tongue. But he's got a natural sense for it, or maybe he's just really good in general, because he gets into a rhythm with it, and soon Jason's hips are hitching despite himself.

He can almost get off from this but not quite, not yet, and it's driving him higher and higher, making him crazy, like the sight of Joe with a little furrow of concentration on his brow, his lashes dipping, his cheeks hollowing with every suck.

Joe tentatively cups Jason's balls and runs his thumb over the scrotum, and his nails are just grazing Jason's taint. Jason says fast, "Back off, back off, coming," and gets his hand down there to catch it just in time before he paints Joe's face and his pretty fucking mouth with it.

Joe's got a stubborn look. He pulls Jason's hand open and swipes two fingers through Jason's come and sucks it into his mouth.

The face he makes is something else. "Okay," he says, "porn kind of lied about that part."

"You get a taste for it," says Jason, breathing slow through the comedown. That was just as good as he anticipated, his head feels light and puffy and aimlessly happy, buzzed. "Kind of."

"Really?"

"I still don't like it," Jason admits, "but it's not about the flavor, it's the whole," he opens his other hand to mean the total experience of sucking cock.

Joe's leaning to get napkins from last night's takeout off the coffee table, handing them to Jason. "Maybe I could get used to it," he says, quiet, eyes on Jason's hands.

Jason reels him close and kisses him, keeping it light and easy for now. "Yeah," he says, "maybe you will."


End file.
